


Bring Me Back

by Lets_newtmas_shucks



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Abusive Parents, All-boy military camp, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Depression, Everyone has a Crush on Thomas, Everyone has issues of some kind, Flashbacks, M/M, Minho Has a Crush on Thomas, Newt has a Crush on Thomas, Past Benho Bromance/Relationship, Past Suicide Attempt, Possible Eventual Smut, Sarcastic Ratman, Sassy!Minho, True Love, grievers are people, jealous!newt, newtmas is the camp ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_newtmas_shucks/pseuds/Lets_newtmas_shucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where children of the elite class are shipped off to Camp Glade, where the Grievers are their guards, Ratman is the camp director and W.C.K.D.  is a creepily perfect boy. Newt is spiralling into depression, but his life changes forever when a new Greenie arrives.</p><p>So basically, usually in all the Newtmas fics I read Newt is portrayed as the vulnerable one, whereas Thomas tends to be the possessive jealous dude. But in this fic both of them get jealous etc. depending on the situation, especially Newt sometimes cause after all, he is the older one ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Newt is still struggling with depression after his experience at home. A new greenie comes. 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta besthonestliar! 
> 
> This is my first fanfic - I hope you guys like it!

Newt stared out across the lake, watching the waves ripple lazily across the water, bouncing the bright rays of late summer sunlight off themselves as they went along.

He felt hypnotised for a second, as if he was almost at peace. Closing his eyes, Newt let the sunlight filtering dimly through the leaves trickle onto his face.

This would be a nice holiday destination in a different situation, he thought, considering the idyllic scenery. It was almost a pity the place had turned out like this.

As if on cue, a guttural growl suddenly cut through his hazy thoughts.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Skiving are we?”

“No," replied Newt, still facing the lake.

“Well, I’ll tell you something shank. I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes and you haven’t done nothing. What makes you think you deserve special treatment huh?”

Newt didn’t take the effort to conceal his theatrical sigh as he swung round on the balls of his feet to meet his accuser.

He was greeted with Julius’ face.

This particular Griever was never a pleasant sight to behold on the best of days, and today was definitely not one of them. Julius’s hair hung in thin greasy strips around his face, which was dotted with spots and shining, like it always was, with what seemed like a thin layer of slime. His facial features seemed to have been forced into his face, leaving him with a permanently squashed look. He wore suit a loose black jump suit that appeared like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. It was still specked with the remains of spaghetti bolognese – a meal Newt was pretty sure they had had last Tuesday. Julius’ grimy hands had undoubtedly bred enough germs to kill a full grown man. In his right, he held a long baton.

Newt’s eyes flickered down to it then back up to meet the Grievers harsh, colourless eyes.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” said Newt, trying not to be distracted by the freakish white irises, “It was an accident. It won’t happen again.”

These were sentences he had repeated countless times to countless different Grievers, yet those few words always seemed to fool their slow brains.

“You'd better hope not,” Julius muttered, slouching away. He had taken a few lumbering steps when he whipped around.

“That wood’s not going to chop itself you know!” He finished with a slightly smug look on his face as if he was proud of himself for thinking up such a smart thing to say, then resumed his slouching away, tapping his baton in his spare hand.

Newt watched tiredly as Julius shuffled up to Minho.

“Quicker!” he heard the Griever screech.

They’re so predictable, Newt thought. But then again, so was everything in the camp. Wake up, work, eat, sleep.

It was like a never-ending cycle. He yearned to break free from it, but at the same time dreaded what was waiting for him outside.

However badly Newt hated the camp, the hatred was always narrowly slimmer than that he held for his life before it.

He realised he was daydreaming again, and focused his eyes on the task in from of him. Newt’s dense pile of timber seemed to be mocking him compared to everyone else’s’.

As far as he could see, Minho was down to chopping his last five pieces.

Damn.

The sun was just beginning to set as well. More work done before sunset meant more food given after, and Newt was hungry. He straightened his back, sighing as it cracked, then raised his blunt axe determinedly.

 

• • •

 

“Just how much did you bloody chop?” asked Newt, staring at Minho’s bowl of stew, which was practically a feast compared to his miserly portion.

“Three and a half piles.”

“Shucking hell!” came Newt’s reply. He had only just managed to get through one pile, and an extra bit that might be considered a quarter if you were generous. And the Grievers were not, and had therefore given him the amount of food worth one pile – a mere few spoonfuls.

Minho smirked.

Newt scowled.

“It’s not my fault you're not as buff as me, now is it?”

“Shut up about your muscles and eat your stew,” grumbled Newt, but he couldn’t resist the small smile that crept up to his lips.

Minho may have been a hair gel hogging arse, but he was one of the reasons Newt found the military-style camp just about bearable.

The shank was always able to lighen up the moods with his sarky little comments.

Another dinner tray came down onto the table. This one had an even bigger portion than Minho’s. He looked thoroughly pissed about it.

“What’s this about Minho boasting again I hear? I thought we cleared this up last time -however strong you think you are shank, you’ll never be able to beat the power of my arms,” said Alby, flexing his biceps conspicuously.

Newt rolled his eyes. This happened at practically every meal time.

"Just you wait Alby, and one day I'll be so strong I'll bat you like Hulk did to Loki in that 2D movie ages ago," said Minho.

"Say hello to that day when it comes," said Alby, settling down on his seat. That set Minho off.

“Even right now, in an arm wrestle I’d win no argument,” said Minho, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“You’re on,” replied Ably without a pause, raising his arm to a ready stance. Newt’s head perked up. Alby, who was the undisputed leader of them all, agreeing to a competition with anyone was a first, and anything unusual tended to draw great attention. Even something as small as an arm wrestle was treated like a welcome interval in the Gladers’ monotonous lives.

Within minutes a small crowd had gathered around, watching as the two burly boys prepared themselves. Winston went on lookout for any Grievers, who for an unknown reason weren't present in the canteen as they usually were.

“Ready?” asked Newt, who had decided to assume the role of referee. They nodded, both of their faces intent on winning.

Then, he started to count down.

“Three, two, one, go!” As soon as the word “go” had left Newt’s lips the crowd immediately erupted into cheers of ‘Go Alby!’ and ‘Come on Minho!' as one boy strained to overpower the other. They remained locked in a silent struggle for almost a full minute.

Then, without any warning, Minho slammed Alby’s fist into the table.

Whoops filled the air, along with Minho’s shouts.

“Who’s the boss? Who’s the boss? I AM!” he yelled triumphantly, pointing at his biceps.

“REMATCH!” screamed Alby.

Newt was shaking with laughter throughout all of this – the density of Minho and Alby’s vanity was truly something else. His eyes were still watering when he watched the two prepare for a second round.

But then, just as Newt was beginning to count down, his fragile bubble was burst.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” screeched a voice.

Several Gladers cringed at the sound and the amicable mood changed abruptly.

Newt's smile slipped, leaving the glum, hopeless expression that had become synonymous with his name over the last few months. He knew this Griever free time wouldn't have lasted long.

“We leave you alone for TWO MINUTES and THIS is what happens?” Newt could easily smell the sour aroma that all their guards carried as Julius got closer.

“Wasting time? Making bets?” said Julius, practically ripping the new ten dollar bill out of Gally’s hands. Then his usually scratchy tone turned low and menacing.

“That klunk may have been what you rich little kids did before, but now you’re the camp’s property. Your precious parents aren’t here to protect you now. In fact, your parents probably didn’t even want you. They just dumped you here cause they could afford it.”

Julius was smiling now, thinking that he had had the last word. His face was horrible sight. Newt guessed that no one had taught him how to smile, as it looked more like a grimace.

The little speech Julius had made, however, left the Gladers unimpressed. They may have been tagged as the ‘attention seekers’ by the media, which had trailed their every step outside the camp, but, contrary to popular belief, they weren’t dumb.

They were aware of the fact their parents had shipped them off this ‘disciplinary school for difficult children’ to get them out of the way. Most of them had known that since Day 1.

Newt was one of the boys who had. But his story was more complicated than most, and although he kept a calm facade, the message hit home hard.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable in his own skin, like he had no right to own it. But annoyance soon flooded through him. How weak must he be, Newt thought, if a few words from an angry Griever could get him feeling like this?

He mentally shook himself and focused on the scene in front of him. An apparent argument was unfolding between Julius and Alby.

"-greenie," Newt caught Julius saying.

“Come on, we have to see him!”

“NO. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Until that no changes into a yes.”

“What?”

The Griever’s brain couldn’t process what Alby had just said fast enough. However, after a few long seconds that consisted of him just staring, Julius shot back.

“You know, I could throw you in the crank house,” he sniffed his fat nose disdainfully, “for not respecting your elders.”

Alby seemed to have frozen with the fear of such a severe threat.

"That's not a valid reason," he managed.

Julius's white eyes narrowed. The hand holding his baton moved slightly, as if at any second it would come up and strike.

"You can tell that to your guards when you're in the crank house," he snarled, seizing Alby's arm and attempting to drag him away.

The fear of the Gladers was tangible in the air. Newt stood still, watching the scene in fascination and horror - he had never seen someone being taken to the crank house, although he had heard the screams once they were in put in there.

Newt didn't even know what they were arguing about, but he was too transfixed to ask somebody.

Then, when the Griever finally managed to move a resisting Alby a few feet, Newt snapped out of his stupor. He couldn't let this happen to one of his best friends.

"Woah woah woah woah," Newt said, moving towards the two quickly. "Maybe we should...um...bring this matter to Ra- Mr Janson!" He silently cursed himself for the inefficiency of his words, but pressed on anyway. "I'm sure he would figure out a compromise, I mean Mr Janson is -"

"Here."

All heads whipped around to the lithe, suited figure with the grey eyes that were surveying the scene. They took it in quickly.

Julius, who was no longer practically ripping Alby's arm off, stood holding himself as upright as his twisted frame would allow, as if he was in some way attempting to appear dignified in front of his boss. Alby's eyes were still alight with fear and he was clutching his shoulder the Griever had pulled. Newt was placed awkwardly in between the two, hardly believing the cliché-ness of Ratman appearing just as he had mentioned him.

Newt felt a rush of anticipation. Surely Ratman wouldn't punish Alby for such a reason as Julius (who everyone knew had anger management issues).

As much as Newt didn't want to admit it, Ratman was too smart to be tricked into wasting time and effort on conserving one Griever's pride. He was right.

"Whatever spat has occurred between you two," Ratman started,"we have a more pressing matter to concern ourselves with."

The tense atmosphere didn't exactly disappear, but Newt could hear a few sighs being let out across the room. He himself, however didn't relax in the slightest, and didn't know how the others could.

Whatever the 'pressing matter' was it was likely to mean bad news for the Gladers.

"What other things do we have to worry about?" Newt asked, breaking the thin sheen of silence.

But rather then an answer like he was expecting all he got back was a mass of astonished eyes staring at him.

"Did you not just hear everything that happened, shank?" snapped Gally.

"Wh-what?"

"Hey, lay off him. He hasn't been sleeping these last few days, he's a bit jacked, okay?" Minho interrupted, venom lacing his tone.

Gally shrank back.

"New greenie, Grievers won't let us see him, that's why they were arguing," muttered Minho to Newt when everyone had directed their attention to Ratman again.

Newt just nodded while looking at the floor. So that's what Alby'd been on about. Despite his curiosity at the thought of a new boy (the last one had come over a month ago) Newt's eyes remained glued downward. His face was flushed a dark crimson.

Ratman, who had been watching the whole scene with a slightly amused expression on his long face, spoke again.

"Now that Isaac," Newt winced at the use of his first name,"has displayed to us his exceptional observation skills, I can proceed in my speech, yes?"

It wasn't a question.

"My decision concerning our new 'greenie', as I believe you call them, may or may not have been interpreted the wrong way by our dear Julius over here."

Newt resisted the urge to gag at how school teacher Ratman was being.

"I had said earlier that you were not allowed to see our new arrival straight away," he continued in the same patronising tone, "I obviously wouldn't keep him from you forever - that would be ridiculous and impossible. I just simply didn't want to overwhelm him in his first day here. He's in quite a fragile state, you see."

That everyone understood. Well, almost everyone - Minho evidently didn't judging by what he said next.

"The guy's had a few hours here though, surely he's cool now. And it's not like if he just sees us he'll go into mental breakdown, is it?"

Ratman's thinly veiled glare didn't seem to register with Minho.

"As I said, the boy is in a very fragile state. And besides, he's being looked after by William."

A small groan ran through the crowd of teenagers.

"Oh god, cause W.C.K.D so makes thing better," muttered Minho.

William Charles Klaus Deighton was the favourite of Ratman, and the two had regular 'therapy sessions'.

Of course, everyone else hated him to the depths of hell, along with his annoyingly perfect personality. W.C.K.D (as the boys liked to call him) was almost too perfect to believe - it was as if someone had programmed him automatically with the expectations of a elite class teenager set by society.

The Gladers all found it impossible to spend more than five minutes with him without either wanting to kill him or themselves, and therefore avoided W.C.K.D. whenever possible.

"You," said Ratman, indicating with his head to Newt, Alby, Minho, Gally and Frypan, "will all be able to see new arrival after dinner. The rest of you will see him at breakfast tomorrow."

The five inhabitants of the Homestead dorm (apart from Gally; he was generally wary of new kids) exchanged excited but confused looks. Why were only they being allowed to see the greenie?

Ratman picked up on this. "Your dormitory is the only one with a current space now that Ben has left."

Everyone tensed.

Ben was a touchy subject, and it was too early for anyone to talk about him casually without a reaction. There was no doubt that Ratman knew this, but there was also no doubt that he didn't care.

"A new arrival, however, does not change the way things are run around here," he continued. "All of you finish your dinner, wash your plates, then back to your dorms."

With that Ratman departed, giving them a dramatic sweep of his white tail coat as he did so.

The crowd of Gladers broke apart uncomfortably.

Everything felt slightly awkward now that Ben had been mentioned. Newt ate the rest of his meal in silence, as did everyone else on his table.

He decided to focus on the thought of a new greenie.

Who was he?

In general, everyone in the upper class society tended to be very well connected - it was useful for business deals etc.

And it was almost impossible for the greenie to be middle class or lower, with the camp's crazily high set fees, and therefore it was almost impossible for at least someone in the Glade not to know something about him.

Newt pondered all the possibilities of who it might be.

Well, if this was a mixed camp it could have been Teresa Dee. He smiled at the thought of the little 'rebel', as the media often labelled her. But since it was an all-boys camp, Newt quickly dismissed the idea of seeing his close friend again, as much as he wanted it to happen.

The only boys he could think of who's parents might have even considered sending them to this shithole were James Ball and Wes Dash.

James was a crazy guy who was just about addicted to every drug in existence.

Wes, on the other hand, was extremely quiet, but came from an amazingly obnoxious family, who often pushed him to do ridiculous things. Newt remembered that one newspaper article about the time Dash had had a mental breakdown after nearly being forced by his father to bungee jump off the Bridge to Nowhere.

Newt thoughts were disrupted by a deep voice. "Seeing as you've been staring at your empty bowl for five minutes, and we're finished eating too, how about we wash then go see the Greenie?"

Alby, who was the one who had spoken, and Minho were looking across the table at Newt.

It was the first time Alby had said anything since his argument with Julius, and Newt didn't miss the slightly defeated tone that underlay his powerful voice.

"Oh, yeah sure," he nodded, quickly clearing his place away.

The three rushed washed their plates in the trough-like sinks, stored them, then sped-walked all the way back to their dorm through the cold night air.

"What do you think the greenie's gonna look like? I wonder if he's hot..."

"Seriously man, that's what you think of first?"asked Newt, stepping over a tree root, "Not his family or why they sent him here?"

"Nah, none of that matters; if he's hot I'll do him," replied Minho, waggling his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Like anyone would even consider going near you when I'm an option," said Alby.

"Whoo and he's back!"guffawed Minho, apparently delighted to have his bitch buddy returned to normal.

Newt snorted.

By this time, the three had reached the Living Quarters, which was a clearing deep in the forest that housed 10 massive log cabins.

Unfortunately, as the three neared to their cabin (the Homestead) the only thing they heard carrying from their room was the smug, nasal voice of W.C.K.D.

"God that poor boy," said Newt, earning nods of agreement from both the other two. They all shuddered at the thought of being made to spend an entire afternoon with W.C.K.D.

"Well, I don't wanna torture the greenie any longer," said Alby, "I'm going in." He pushed the door to the dorm open.

Inside the (ridiculously oversized) dorm, there were three bunk beds, one placed next to each wall. There was nothing in the room that would have suggested that five boys had slept there the night before - all bedcovers and sheets were taken off and there were no personal belongings in sight.

This was how the room always looked. If it didn't when the Grievers came in the morning to check it, then the entire dorm would go without food until dinner, which was whenever sunset was. That had happened once, and Gally had almost beat Minho to death for leaving his hair gel on the dresser - it had been in winter.

The only thing out of the ordinary in the cabin were two figures sitting on the lower bed of the bunk on the right. That particular bed hadn't been inhabited in weeks.

A boy with untidy brown hair sat, slightly slumped with boredom and exhaustion, with his back towards the Newt.

"...just talk to me, I'm so close to Mr Janson I might as well be him, and you don't want to bother such an important person..." W.C.K.D.'s robotic voice droned on and on.

Newt opened his mouth to say something, but Minho got there first.

"Yo, greenie. Yeah, you on the bunk."

The figure of the brunet quickly whipped around, obviously relieved.

And when Newt saw his face, his heart stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas have first impressions (AUTOMATIC CRUSH). Minho and Alby assume the role of wingmen. W.C.K.D. keeps on butting in. Newt gets kinda mad and jealous (hehe).
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta besthonestliar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the pace is quite slow at the moment, but I wanted to spend some time on first impressions.
> 
> Also, i did this chapter in third person, but from different people's point of views if you get what I mean (like in heroes of olympus).
> 
> Lastly, the bits in brackets are the persons thoughts (like the one whos perspective im writing in), cause I can't figure out how to get italics - if anyone knows please say in the comments!!
> 
> and sorry if it gets confusing but...  
> ENJOY!!
> 
> feel free to leave comments and kudos :)

• • • • • • NEWT • • • • • •

 

The boy's face was...breath-taking to say the least. Newt had to blink several times before he could focus properly. 

The greenie's well chiselled face only emphasised his rich brown eyes, which were looking over the three of them warmly. His pink lips were shaped to the perfect curve, and his chocolate hair was tousled casually into a soft quiff so it wouldn't fall over his eyes. 

He was wearing a button up grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, dark red sneakers and a black beanie. It was unfair how good some people could pull off the casual look, thought Newt wistfully. 

Then, the new boy's eyes locked on him. Immediately, Newt could feel his palms begin to sweat and his face begin to burn, but the greenie held his gaze steadily.

Bloody hell, he thought as his stomach then suddenly decided it was a gymnast and tied several knots in itself. Newt didn't say anything - he didn't trust himself to form articulate words with those velvet eyes staring at him like that. 

"There you three are," came W.C.K.D.'s voice. He didn't sound pleased to see the three Gladers, but then again, his speech was usually toneless. There has only be a few instances where anyone has seen him show emotion. "This is -"

It was at this point the Greenie broke his eye contact. Newt felt slightly startled that it had stopped so quickly, and surprisingly disappointed. 

"I think I can introduce myself, thank you," said the boy, who had twisted around to address W.C.K.D. Newt couldn't blame him for being rude - if he were him he would have murdered W.C.K.D. out of pure aggravation ages ago. 

The greenie got off the bed and started towards him. 

(Oh shit.)

He was sudden aware of what he was wearing - his baggy work clothes. Newt damned himself for not changing after sunset like some Gladers, including Minho, did. And what if he had something on his face? He was bound to, after having worked all day. 

(Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I would bet I look like klunk.) 

All the same, the greenie was getting closer all the time, smiling at the three of them in an adorable way that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"Hey," he said when he reached them, offering his hand to shake, “my name's Thomas."

There was an awkward silence. It was long too. Newt spent it staring at Tommy’s face. His features were so careful but at the same time radiated strength. 

"Um, anyone home?" Tommy finally said, wearing a cute worried expression and waving his hand that he had been holding out in front of the three guy's faces. 

Newt spared a quick glance to his right, where Alby and Minho were standing. Both were staring, Alby with a slightly impressed expression, and Minho with an awestruck one. 

Well, at least Newt knew for sure there was nothing wrong with his taste. 

 

• • • • • THOMAS • • • • •

 

(What’s wrong with me?)

Thomas stood, digging his nails into the palm of the hand that hung by his side. The other one was currently offering a handshake to thin air.

Panic began to creep into his mind. 

(What am I doing wrong?)

(Okay Thomas, stay cool, stay cool.)

(But still remember first impressions are everything.)

(Shit.)

From the moment the butler had told him he was being sent to Camp Glade, he had made the decision to use the situation to his advantage. Thomas had been determined that this camp, no matter how harsh its reputation was, would be his new start, and had concocted a shaky plan to make it so.

a) He would blend in.

And… that was about it. Thomas had been so sure that it would work he hadn’t bothered to complicate it. 

Easy peasy, he had told himself. A camp full of boys like me, what could go wrong?

Evidently something, for the three boys in front of him were all staring at him with their mouths agape. Just like they had at his old school.

(Oh god. Do they know?)

Of course, Thomas had no idea what they knew about him. After spending almost half a year under strict house arrest, surrounded by guards, he himself had no idea how much the media had covered on him and his jacked family. And as if his parents had told him anything.

As far as Thomas was concerned, his picture could have been splattered across the front page of all the newspapers daily and he would have still been oblivious. 

“Um…anyone home?” he managed, struggling to keep his nerves off his face. He moved his hand in front of their faces slightly, hoping to get a reaction.

And he did.

It was a small one, but it was better than the silence that had reigned in the room just moments before. The slender boy who Thomas had thought cute earlier, flashed his head quickly to the right, as if to check on his companions.

(Yep, they defo know.)

Thomas’ sliver of hope for a normal life he had been holding onto so desperately disappeared. The feeling of it going was so dramatic he almost felt it should have had a poof of coloured smoke to accompany it. He should have expected that they would know, and silently Thomas chastised himself for hoping any different.

When the cute boy turned back to him, however, instead of wearing that look of judgement, his face was flushed and apologetic.

“Name’s Newt, Greenie,” he said in a lilting voice. The rich tone paired with the accent was almost hypnotic, and Thomas found himself nodding. “Sorry, bout all that before, like the silence and klunk, but we haven’t umm….had a new Greenie in a while. Not used to it.”

“So yes, that’s Newt” said William, sounding as tedious as ever, “and that one over there’s Minho, that one-”

This seemed to trigger something in the middle boy. He was dark and well built, and carried a sense of power with him. 

“Shut up, klunk-head,” he interrupted coldly. William’s mouth snapped shut promptly. “As Thomas said earlier, we don’t need your help with introductions.”

William’s facial expression didn’t change a bit.  
The middle guy continued.

“So yeah, I’m Alby, this shuck is Minho, and well, I guess you already know him,” he gestured to the British boy.

“Newt,” replied Thomas, smiling at Newt as he did so. The name tasted nice on his tongue.

Newt gave a slight lopsided smile back, and Thomas felt as if the butterflies inside him were having a spaz attack.

(God, that dude’s hot. And British. Woah.)

(No. Thomas focus. You came here to blend in and it’s hard enough being the new guy, don't make it harder for yourself.)

(I bet he's not even gay.)

It was as if Newt was confirming that thought when he looked away first. 

It was weird how big an effort it took Thomas to hide his hurt – he hardly knew Newt. He decided to focus on the other two guys for the time being. Even when he was though, he was always aware of the figure slightly to the right of them. It was almost annoying how quickly Newt seemed to have plastered across all of Thomas' thoughts. 

"Nice to meet you Alby," said Thomas making an attempt at normal and offering his hand again. This time Alby took it.

"And you, Minho," he continued. But Minho made no move to take his hand. In fact he made no move to do anything at all - he was still frozen in the position that the other two had broken out of seemingly ages ago and was gaping openly.

"Are you okay?" asked Thomas, lowering his hand. His fear of recognition had been returned.

"Oh, nah he's fine," said Newt nonchalantly, reaching behind Alby and whacking the top of Minho's head. A crazily fast change came over the boy.

"NOT THE HAIR!" he yelled, literally jumped back away from Newt. "Never...touch...THE HAIR."

Newt's grin was wide with amusement, showing off his perfect white teeth. Thomas's heart leaped in his chest.

"Anyway," Minho was saying, artistically ruffling his hair into a perfect disarray again and shooting a vehement glare in Newt's general direction, "sorry about that. Daydreaming I guess."

He then strutted confidently up to Thomas, seized his hand, and shook it with both of his.

"Good meeting you too, greenie. Bout time we had a new guy, things were getting a tad boring up here. And you," Minho waved his finger at Thomas, "look like you're gonna spice things up."

And with that he spun round and strutted again back to his spot next to Alby, who winked, grinning at the Asian as he came closer.

Thomas decided he liked Minho.

Newt was also smiling at Minho, but unlike Alby's, it was one that said 'i-want-to-kill-you-so-bad-right-now-but-can’t'. It was oddly bitter expression to appear on his angelic face, thought Thomas. 

(I wonder what made him get like that.)

 

• • • • • • NEWT • • • • • •

 

(I’m gonna bloody kill that shank.)

If there was one thing Newt was sure about, that was it.

(Damn Minho and his damn confidence and his damn hair and his damn flirtiness.) 

Of course everyone would be crushing on Tommy - there was no way only Newt would find him attractive.

(And with so many guys in the camp, what chance do I have?)

He kept his smile on his face, but could feel his jealousy seeping through it. Then Newt saw that Tommy was watching him, and his smile dropped abruptly, replaced by flushing cheeks and eyes looking anywhere in the room but him. He could still sense the greenie trailing him though. 

Everyone jumped when a whiny voice crept up from behind Tommy.  
"As I had been saying, Mr Janson entrusted the newbie to me, and therefore I should be the one to show him around."

He suppressed a groan.

(Oh dear lord.)

Newt had forgotten that W.C.K.D. was still in the room, and that the boy always wanted to be the one to give greenies the camp tour (which lasted several hours), insisting that it was now a 'tradition' despite having only done it twice.

He could see Tommy’s face fill with dread - it looked like it was taking almost every ounce of his will power to not find the nearest thing that had the potential to be even remotely dangerous and stab himself with it at the prospect of being alone with W.C.K.D. again. Newt was almost sure that Tommy was nearly about to do it - he kept glancing to the vulnerable glass lamp sitting on Gally's mahogany bedside table.

"You know," Tommy said, making a last ditch attempt at getting out of the batshit tour, "perhaps it's not the best idea for just you to show me around when there's so many other people," he gestured to Minho, Alby and Newt, "that I've only just met. I mean, I spent a whole afternoon with you - it's about time I got to know some other people."

"Oh Tommy that was a mistake," breathed Newt, too low for anyone to hear.

And he was right - W.C.K.D. rose, his dark blue eyes boring holes through Tommy’s face with pure malice. It was as if the greenie had just admitted to killing W.C.K.D.'s grandma rather than asking not to spend the next few hours with him.

"I'm taking time...out of MY SCHEDULE, and you fail to appreciate this gesture so much you'd rather spend your evening with THESE?" W.C.K.D. swept his arm towards the three Gladers who were watching. Newt glanced at Tommy, who was backing away, face void of anything but alarm. Red began to tinge Newt's vision.

(This isn't what he needs on his first day.) 

"Do you have ANY idea how VALUABLE MY TI - "

Newt couldn't take it any longer.

"Oh go fuck yourself you little shuck," Newt growled. This was almost the angriest he had ever been before - and the coldness projected in his voice. Everyone's eyes widened, even Thomas, who didn't know that Newt rarely got like this. W.C.K.D.'s eyes were navy orbs that stared at Newt's glowering caramel ones in shock. 

"Then after you've figured out a way to do that, and if you're done spouting klunk about how bloody special you are, get out. This isn't even your fucking dorm."

There was a pause while everyone processed that threat. 

"I WILL REPORT YOU TO MR JANSON FOR BEING THIS DISRESPECTFUL TO ME," spat W.C.K.D., who had clearly recovered from initial surprise, "NO CAMPER HAS THE RIGHT TO TALK TO ANOTHER IN THAT ABHORRENT WAY! WHEN I AM HEAD CAMPER THE FIRST THING I WILL DO IS DISMISS ALL OF YOU FROM THIS NOBLE INSTITUTION. I WILL -"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Minho, grabbing the back of W.C.K.D.'s cardigan and dragging him to the door, ignoring his rants and warnings, "good luck with that you twat."  
Then he promptly (and literally) kicked W.C.K.D.'s ass out the cabin. 

"Now that's done," he said, clapping his hands together as if to get off dust, "we can relax."

"No we can’t. What about the tour?" Newt asked, suppressing the still-existent remains of his previous rage to not alarm Minho. 

"Well, that'll have to wait for tomorrow, won't it?" replied Alby, "besides, Ratman did say that the campers weren't allowed to see the Greenie till then. There's no point taking him out now."

"I don't get it!" Tommy threw his hands up in the air. "Greenie? Ratman? Dudes, you can't just use those words and think I get it, cause I haven't learnt your 'slang' or whatever. Speaking of new stuff, I've need to ask you a load of stuff cause I basically have no fricking idea about anything that's going on here."

(Shit. Didn't think about that.)

"Okay greenie, cool it with the questions for a tad yeah?" said Newt, trying to calm a pacing Tommy down. 

"Greenie equals newbie btw," Minho interjected helpfully. Tommy stopped pacing to smile at him, and Newt's stomach twisted in annoyance again.

(You damn pretty boy Minho.)

"It's time to sleep anyway, so you can save your questions for tomorrow," said Alby.

"Can I ask one?" pleaded Tommy, his puppy eyes massive. Then his brow furrowed as he thought, "actually two. But just the two - and they won't be hard."

"No. Go to bed."

"Oh come on Alby. Let him ask two questions. It's not like it'll take up time or anything," said Newt.

Alby considered.  
"Fine."

Tommy wasted no time whatsoever, launching right into his two precious questions.

"Who and where are the other two people who room in here?"

"That was two questions, you cheeky bugger, but I’ll let you have it,” said Newt, smiling and sitting down on Minho’s bedside table. “One’s called Frypan and the other’s called Gally. Frypan’s an amazing cook so he’s probably down in the kitchens or somewhere. You can’t go there, by the way, only he can. He’s got special permission from Ratman. Oh, uh, sorry Mr Janson. We call him Ratman cause, well, have you seen his face?"

Tommy nodded, grinning.

“And as for Gally, he’s got like a phobia of new guys or something. As in, he doesn’t go near people unless he knows them or someone forces him to, cause he’s afraid they’ll screw things up. Or something like that anyway, so that’s probably why he’s not here.”

“Oh, uh..” Tommy looked guilty, as if it was somehow his fault he was sent here. Newt rushed to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, it’s not you. Gally’s done this to everyone who came here after him. And that was three years ago.”

“Three years?!” The disbelief Tommy felt was obvious. Newt bet that he could already feel this place was bad news, despite the fancy cover up designed to lure parents in to sending their children here.

(Smart kid.)

“Yeah,” Newt continued, “he’s one of the longest Gladers, along with us.” He gestured to himself and the other two. “We were the first.”

(How can his eyes get that big? I mean, I know he’s surprised and all but seriously, they’re massive.)

Newt realised he and Tommy had been staring at each other again, and quickly averted his eyes.

What neither of them saw was Alby and Minho watching this, and the smirking and eyebrow raising that they exchanged.

“So, what was your second question?” asked Newt, still focusing on the log wall behind Tommy.

“Hey wait,” cut in Alby, “Thomas’ already asked two questions, idiot, and this isn’t a Q&A session.”

“How’s he asked two??”

“He was like ‘three years’?” Minho put on a high falsetto for Tommy’s voice, “and that qualifies as a question.” 

“Firstly,” said Newt, letting his annoyance show through, “he doesn’t talk like that, and secondly, it doesn’t count as a question, it was a reaction, so shut up shuck-face.”

“Have I still got my second question, cause even though it doesn’t sound like it, I really need to ask it,” said Tommy, as if reminding them he was still there.

“Go ahead,” said Newt, sending one more disapproving look at the two boys, who were, for some reason unbeknownst to him, beaming at him.

As soon as he had looked back at Tommy, Alby and Minho turned to each other with impish smiles and sniggered quietly.

“Okay, good. Will I really have to go on that tour with William tomorrow? Cause I really don’t know if I can bear him for any longer than a minute at a time, and the camp looks like it would take hours to tour.”

“NO!! Of course not!” Minho practically jumped towards Tommy. “No way would we make you spend one more second with that assbutt when we have a perfectly good tour guide here!”

)Of course Minho was gonna volunteer.)

“Newt!” Minho continued, patting him on the shoulder, “you’ll give Thomas the tour tomorrow, won’t you?”

Newt’s head shot up, along with his eyebrows.

“w-what?”

“Yeah, Newtie, you’ll give Thomas here the tour tomorrow?” said Alby as if he was Minho’s second voice. He even came up and leaned on Newt’s other shoulder like they did in movies. 

“Umm.. yeah, sure..”

Newt heard the words come out of his mouth before he even had a chance to consider them.

“Good!” said Minho to Tommy, “It looks like you two are really hitting it off today, you see. We just really didn’t want to disrupt that.”

Then, when he thought Tommy wasn’t looking, Minho winked at Newt.

Newt was tempted to wink back now he knew what Minho and Alby were doing, but he wanted to check something first.

“Wait, Tommy, are you good with me giving you the tour tomorrow?”

“Tommy?” His voice sounded quizzical as he looked back from the chest of drawers he’s been studying. 

(Crap.)

Newt honestly had no idea where that had come from. For some reason, he’d just been thinking for the last five minutes automatically replacing Thomas with Tommy.

(Seriously, the hell is wrong with me?)

“Uhh…I…uh,” Newt really couldn’t concentrate when three pairs of eyes were on him, a steady stream of curse words was flowing through his mind, and he could feel that his face was practically on fire. “Sorry…um…I didn’t mean too…I don’t know…I mean...I’ll stop calling you that if-”

“NO!” Newt could see Tommy take a gulp of air before he went on. His face was flushed as well. “I mean, no it’s fine. You can call me Tommy if you want. Just,” he glanced at Minho and Alby beside Newt, “no one else call me it, yeah? Like, it’s not a bad thing, but I don’t think it would…uh…sound right if anyone else said it. You get me?”

Newt didn’t, and he was pretty sure neither did Minho or Alby, but all three nodded simultaneously. He felt even more embarrassed now that Tommy had singled him out somehow, but at the same time, he had the strange urge to launch into a victory dance. 

“Um, g-guys?” Tommy stuttered. Newt noticed that they had all been staring fixatedly at him.

Then, suddenly, and conveniently for once, shriek of a Griever interrupted them.

 

• • • • • THOMAS • • • • •

 

“LIGHTS OFF AND IF I FIND ANYONE OUT OF BED NOW NO FOOD UNTIL DINNER TOMORROW.”

“What the hell was that?” yelped Thomas, shocked at the inhuman voice which somehow was able to speak understandable English.

Just then two people barrelled into the room. Thomas barely had time to register their faces, or anything remotely related to their appearance, before the screechy sounds came again.

“TEN SECONDS TILL LIGHTS OFF.”

The dorm filled with curse words from all directions, and the slimmer of the two guys Thomas didn’t know flicked the light switch, leaving the cabin almost completely dark. The only things that Thomas could see (and this was if he squinted) were faint outlines that had been highlighted by the moonlight pooling in through the small glass windows.

(What the actual fuck is going on?) 

Everyone was rushing around, trying to get into their bunks in the ten seconds given.

“NINE.”

“Thomas go with Newt, quickly,” said a clear deep voice, which probably belonged to Alby.

But Thomas didn’t move. He didn’t know where Newt was, or his bunk, or anything for that matter.

A slim hand grasped Thomas’ hand, bathed in the dim moonlight. His head snapped to the owner of the hand, and electric heat crashed through his veins when he saw who it was. 

(Ohmigod he’s holding my hand.)

“Come on, Tommy,” said Newt’s light voice, pulling him over gently but firmly to the bunk bed on the right. 

(Ohmigod he’s calling me Tommy.)

“EIGHT.”

“Quickly, get in the top bunk. I’m on the bottom – I don’t like heights.”

“But the bed sheets aren’t on or anything.”

“SEVEN.”

“Doesn’t matter, not right now. And no more questions today, yeah Tommy? Just sleep – you’ll need it for tomorrow.”

“SIX.”

Thomas kicked off his sneakers, then clambered as fast as he could to the top bunk, banging his knee on one of the dark wooden rungs as he did so. 

“FIVE.”

Stifling a groan at the inevitable bruise he would get tomorrow, he hurriedly unscrambled the neatly folded duvet and climbed into it. 

“FOUR.”

Everything was silent. The only thing Thomas could feel was his heart pounding; whether it was from the climb or the imprint Newt’s soft touch had left on his skin, he didn’t know.

“THREE.”

Newt’s dulcet tones floated up to Thomas. 

“Night Tommy.”

“TWO.”

“Night Newt.”

It was ridiculous how messed up he could become from saying a few words to Newt, thought Thomas, as he lay with his face red staring at the ceiling. 

(Yep, I’m crushing on that boy bad.) 

The voice from outside sounded once more.

“YOU’D ALL BETTER BE ASLEEP NOW UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO GET IN THERE AND PUT YOU TO SLEEP THE HARD WAY.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to be nice and make the next chapter a massive one with the tour and flashbacks to how they ended up in the camp ABER that means that its gonna take AGES to write but I promise you guys it will be up soon!! Plus its the Christmas holidays so i should have more time to write (yay!) 
> 
> LOVE ALL OF YOU  
> MWAH
> 
> lets_newtmas_shucks


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas wakes up to a loud argument, and within minutes he meets Gally. Newt gets dominating (hehe), and Minho knows something…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven’t posted in such a long time :(, but I hope you all had an awesome Christmas!!
> 
> Also, sorry that the Chapter Summary is so vague, but I didn’t want to give away spoilers cause this fic in general is quite mysterious…
> 
> This chapter is kinda a filler chapter and I’m also really sorry about that – I know I said that it would be really long with the Tour and everything, but I tried to do that and it just wouldn’t work. But seriously, even though this is a filler, it has loaaaads of info so you really can’t miss it out. 
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta, besthonestliar!
> 
> Enjoy!

•     •     •     THOMAS     •     •     •

 

He choked on the rough ashy air - the searing temperature bit at his throat like poison. Thomas' eyes watered as they searched desperately around for an exit, or anything that would indicate one.

 

But he found nothing on the smooth walls of the burning room.

 

Thomas screamed as he saw red and yellow flicker a deadly path towards him, then screamed more as the flames began to lick their way up his legs. He clambered desperately away from them, but they kept their hold on him, laughing with ease.

 

The scent of burning flesh filled the air.

 

The dancing colours were beautiful – yet deadly.

 

So deadly.

 

And fast.

 

_No, no, no it’s too quick, too quick!  TOO QUICK!_

Thomas’ howls of pain were long and interrupted. He was powerless to stop them.

 

The fire had climbed up to his thighs when he finally saw something.

 

But it wasn't an exit.

 

Or anything similar.

 

Through the smoke, heat and pain, Thomas could just make out the dark figure of a man.

 

"Please," Thomas croaked, hoping against hope that whoever this person was, they would be able to save him from this slow torture.

 

Then, the figure stepped forward. 

 

If Thomas’ had had any thoughts of survival, they cracked in an instance when the light revealed the sadistic smile of his father. 

 

All his past nightmares came crashing down on him, and Thomas knew what was coming next.

 

The walls of what he realised was his basement seemed to close in on him, leaving his father as the only thing he could see.

 

The scorching temperature seemed to rocket all of a sudden.

 

"No," Thomas gasped, not caring how much the damage the air was doing to his lungs, "NO! PLEASE!"

 

But even his begging was no use.

 

Thomas cried out as a dousing of the oily liquid, which he had become familiar with in his sleep, was thrown on his torso and face by his father.

 

The scent attacked Thomas' nose.

 

Gasoline.

 

His own screams were all Thomas could hear as he burned.

 

•     •     •     •     •     •    •     •     •

 

 

His eyes snapped open, but he quickly closed them after they were assaulted by the bright morning light. He squinted until he could make out the swirling patterns in the wooden beams on top of him.

 

Thomas rolled over, then groaned.

 

His shirt was plastered to his back with sweat, and his clothes generally felt hot and sticky. They crinkled awkwardly when he moved.

 

The mattress and duvet, however, had been surprisingly comfy.

 

This though, unlike what people might assume, suddenly made the whole situation feel...wrong for Thomas. It reminded him too much of his four poster at home, and he shuddered at the thought of it. 

 

He remembered the nightmare and was tempted to groan again. The actual thing was nothing special, it was a recurring dream that had become a regular part of his sleep over the past few months. Even considering this though, the nightmare had jerked Thomas from the camp back to the home he hated - and his father.

 

_Is it a law I'm not allowed to get a night’s sleep without that damn basement or what?_

 

As he squirmed though, he became aware of an apparent row taking place under him.

 

So there were others in the dorm.

 

_Thank god I don't talk - or scream - in my sleep._

 

"No, let them sleep, you shuck face," came Minho's fierce voice, as if he was chastising someone else. And he clearly was, as a few seconds later another annoyed voice sounded. This one was younger and more boyish, yet harsher than Minho's. Thomas didn't recognise it. 

 

"God, calm your tits. I know he's a Greenie and you're trying to make him feel welcome and all that klunk, but are you really gonna let the Grievers punish the whole dorm just for him? It's not like he's special or anything."

 

_Oh. They're talking about me._

 

"Fine. But you're the one waking him and his tour guide up," hissed Minho, “and while you're at it, why don't you introduce yourself too? I mean, we all know how you love meeting new people, don't we?"

 

After struggling to remember from yesterday, Thomas realised who the other voice must have belonged to.

 

_So that's the one who hates new guys. What was his name? Gale? No, Gally. Yeah, Gally._

 

There was then a long silence, which stretched out just enough for it to become clear that Gally was vacant of a comeback to what must have been a bad hit.

 

"What I thought," Minho said. There were thumping sounds as he walked heavily over the hollow floor, presumably back to his bunk. Gally stayed where he was, muttering to himself in a low voice words that would have made a mother cover her child's ears.

 

Thomas sighed quietly.

 

As much as he had predicted the order-loving Gally wouldn't like him and his impulsive behaviour, and as much as he didn't care, Thomas really didn't want to be splitting opinions on his first proper day. Especially over what sounded like him getting special treatment for being the new guy. Special treatment was the last thing Thomas wanted or needed. It wasn't at all compatible with his plan to blend in - something that his nightmare had highlighted he needed to do.

 

"Actually," Thomas started, rising with difficulty into a sitting position and stretching his stiff muscles, "I'm already awake. And sorry, by the way." This was directed at the boy standing underneath Thomas' bunk, who he still couldn't see,” I didn't know there was a time we had to be awake by."

 

"Nah, it's cool," said Minho from his bunk, nodding at Thomas, although it was plain the apology hadn't actually been for him. Thomas sensed that Minho though, had been helping him avoid an awkward situation, as Gally seemed resolute to keeping silent, and he was grateful.

 

“Where is everyone? I mean, it’s still dark outside.”

 

“Breakfast,” replied Minho. When he saw Thomas’ expression, he snorted. “Well, we don’t call this the camp of hell for no reason.”

 

Minho continued, "But usually, if you got up this late, you'd only have five minutes to get dressed and eat before work, so it's good advice not to do it again. Today though, I'd bet money the Grievers - they were the ones you heard screaming at us to sleep by the way - will let you off, and not just cause I'm never wrong, but cause it's your first day. Just say you were doing your tour or something and you'll be fine."

 

Thomas nodded, a bit hesitantly. Perhaps he could accept special treatment just this once; however brave he thought he might be, it was a tad too early in the morning to face whoever had made those horrible noises yesterday - he was sure the people would be just as terrifying.

 

"Wait," said Thomas suddenly confused, "if there's only five minutes, why're you still here and not eating?"

 

"Oh yeah, me and Gally got into a fight a week back, so now we got no breakfast for however long the Grievers feel like," replied Minho nonchalantly, while fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, "so far it's been, like a fortnight or something."

 

"A fortnight?"

 

"Yeah, well you get used to it."

 

"And a fight? Why did you even get into one in the first place?" Thomas asked curiously. He swung his legs onto the top rungs of the ladder so he'd be facing Minho.

But it wasn't Minho who answered.

 

"For fun."

 

Thomas' head snapped down to the now visible figure that stood below him, looking up. 

 

_Wow. Um...that is not a nice looking dude._

 

Gally had greasy black hair, which was tangled around his head, and not in the 'messy-but-still-looking-awesome' way. 

His eyes were a dull green and easily forgettable, and he had an absolutely monstrous nose that closely resembled a knobbly potato. 

The only things that was passible on his unfortunately arranged face were the two magnificent eyebrows he possessed.

 

_I'd kill for eyebrows like that._

 

Ignoring Gally's rather unsightly appearance as much as he could, Thomas quickly came down from the top bunk, eager to introduce himself. He knew if he was to survive the camp, he would have to make friends. That was one of the more...valuable lessons he has learnt from his father.

 

"Thomas," he said smiling and holding out his hand.

 

"Gally," Gally replied, looking at the hand but not taking it.

 

Thomas lowered his hand. It was definitely true that Gally didn't like new people then. Thomas could easily sense the cautious guard Gally had put up between them - he could also sense that this was usual for him to do.

 

_Well, no harm can come of making an effort._

 

Thomas decided to go for the standard first meeting phrases.

 

"It's good to mee-"

 

"Shut up," Gally snarled.

                                                      

Thomas took a step back, alarmed. Caution was one thing but the venom in Gally's voice was on a whole different level. Thomas spared a glance at Minho for help, but found the older boy looking just as startled as him.

 

"W-what?" stuttered Thomas.

 

"You know what I'm talking about, shank. I've seen you before - I  _know_  you."

 

_What's he-_

 

Thomas' thoughts were filled with dread as they flooded his jittery mind. 

 

_No. He can't know. No-body else seems to know - how would he? Nothing's different about him, right?_

_He can't know._

_Okay._

_Calm down, think rationally._

_Play it safe._

 

"I've never seen you before in my life," stated Thomas, keeping as close to the truth as he could. He ignored his heart's pounding, which seemed to be trying to break his rib cage with its every beat.

 

"Don't try and act all innocent," Gally spat, "I can see it on your face you're lying, Greenie.

 

Thomas felt annoyance spark through him when Gally tacked a condescending 'Greenie' at the end of his sentence.

 

"Please, call me Thomas," he said through gritted teeth. 

He thinly veiled his frustration, not caring much if it showed through. 

 

A sudden creaking sounded from the Thomas' left. He turned to see Newt rolling messily from his bed. 

 

_Oh lord._

 

Thomas' breath caught in his chest as his eyes scanned over his roommate, who he'd forgotten was still in the dorm, sleeping.

 

Newt was still blearily rubbing his eyes as he stumbled into a standing position next to Thomas, clutching one side of the bunk ladder as he swayed slightly. 

 

_He's even hotter up close._

 

Newt's caramel hair stuck up unevenly around his head, creating a crooked bronze crown. Despite the sleepiness in the eyes, the deep tawny pools that made up his irises still made Thomas' thoughts fuzzy. Newt's pyjamas, which he had evidently changed into some time during the night, hung loosely on his slim frame, making his body appear smaller than ever; something that contrasted starkly with the strong features on his face. 

 

Thomas watched as Newt yawned, made a weak attempt to stifle it, failed, then decided he didn't care away and went ahead yawning, adding a massive stretch of his arms as well.

 

 

"Hey guys, what time i-" Newt started, but never finished his sentence. As soon as he saw Thomas, he froze.

 

An indistinguishable look abruptly found Newt's face, and even though Thomas couldn't tell what it meant, he was sure as hell it wasn't positive.

 

_Shit. What do I even look like in the morning?_

_He's probably just shocked I have the ability to change the meaning of the phrase 'beauty' sleep._

 

Thomas immediately began to fidget with his clothes from yesterday, his self-consciousness creeping up on him like a disease. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, checked to see if it was level as subtly as he could, then hurriedly straightened it more.

 

When Thomas looked up, however, he was surprised to see Newt doing exactly the same with his faded Harry Potter pyjama top.

 

Newt was the first to talk.

 

"T-Tommy!" he said, with a slight stammer, "What are you doing up alr-"

 

Newt's words were cut off abruptly by a sort of choked laugh, which came from opposite Thomas.

 

"Tommy?" snorted Gally. The nickname, which sounded sweet from Newt's mouth, had somehow been manipulated into a sneering laugh by Gally. "Dudes, that is gayer than fruit dip in a rainbow."

 

Thomas felt anger sweep through him.

 

It was just wrong for something Newt's innocent words to be  _twisted_  like that.

 

And the other boy had struck a nerve with 'gay'.

 

He told himself to calm down - he had met plenty of Gally's kind before.

 

He almost did.

 

But when Thomas looked at Newt, at the hurt expression he was trying so hard to hide, he decided he didn't care about 'calm'.

 

He started towards Gally, intent on punching the crap out of that massive nose (or something along those lines). He was just half a metre from Gally (who hadn't moved, being too caught off guard by the fact a  _greenie_ seemed to be about to hit him) when hewas held back by a lean but strong arm.

 

Surprised, Thomas stopped. Following the arm, he was greeted with Newt's face. Newt, however wasn't looking at Thomas - he was staring straight at Gally's still stunned face.

 

"Yes, that's what I call him," Newt said, his voice smooth and cool, "Tommy. Got a problem with that?"

 

Thomas had half expected Gally to recover from his shock, smirk, then make another smarting remark. 

 

But instead, he found himself watching in confusion as apprehension and fear clouded Gally's face.

 

"No Newt," the boy mumbled just loud enough to be heard, all traces of his previous smugness dissipated completely. "None at all."

 

Then Thomas got it.

 

Newt may have had a calm composure and a steady wide smile, but at the same time, he practically radiated power.

 

Thomas had missed it yesterday, with Minho and Alby in the room, but Newt's superiority couldn't have been more obvious now compared with Gally. 

 

_Newt's like...a leader. An Alpha._

_..._

_But wait._

_But say - still going with the Greek thingys - he is an Alpha, then I'd be - what is it? Oh yeah. An omega._

_He's been here 3 years, Gally nearly that long, and look at the difference in how they act._

_Thomas, you've been here one day._

_You're a Greenie._

_An omega._

_An alpha and an omega._

_Considering how bad the hierarchy seems to be here - dude you'd have to be crazy to think anything could ever happ-_

 

Thomas' thoughts were broken by a voice that was tinged with a slightly forced optimism.

 

"Come on you shucks, I think that's enough shame staring for now, yeah?" said Minho, coming between Newt and Gally. Gally was still staring at the floor, and Newt was still staring at Gally. 

 

Despite Minho's intervention, neither moved. He tried again, this time the upbeat undertone gone from his words.

 

"Stop it Newt."

 

Newt looked away from Gally immediately, turning towards Minho. For some reason, he looked unusually ashamed, a sudden change from the unreadable expression he had worn when staring down Gally.

 

"Uh, sorry."

 

He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and, like Gally, gave his attention to the floor.

 

"It's alright."

 

The words came softly from Minho, as if they were meant to comfort.

 

Thomas stared at what was happening, dumbfounded.

 

Obviously, the exchange referred to something that Thomas didn't know about.

 

But Newt hadn't done anything wrong, apart from telling Gally off, in a way.

 

_The hell?_

 

"What was that about?" asked Thomas, his curiosity overpowering his common sense.

 

The only reply he got came from Newt, and it was short, sharp and to the point.

 

"Later."

 

Thomas wanted to keep pressing, but sensed that it wasn't such a good time. Besides, it probably wouldn't do much good - it didn't seem like anyone would be willing to answer.

 

Surprisingly enough, Newt kept on talking, using his voice to break the tension in the room. 

 

"Anyway guys, um, as I was saying, what time is it?"

 

This seemed to set something off in Minho, and he was the first one to move.

 

Checking his watch, he yelped, “Shit!”

 

“What? What is it? Are we late?” asked Newt.

 

“SHIT SHIT SHIT!” was the answer he got. It came from a frantic Minho, who was rushing around the dorm, “SHIT!”

 

“WHAT?” This came from Gally, who had snapped out of his silent state when Minho began shouting.

 

“SHIT! AND WHERE ARE MY GLOVES?”

 

“MINHO! STOP WITH YOUR SHITS AND TELL ME WHATS GOING ON! ARE WE LATE?” Newt yelled, alarm apparent in his voice.

Still no answer aside from profanities.

 

“MINHO!” yelled Newt, Gally and Thomas, even though he really had no idea what was happening, or why the possibility of being late was such a big deal.

 

“AHA!”

 

Minho, who was now clutching a pair of brown fingerless gloves, ran up to Gally and quickly flashed the face of his clock at him.

 

“SHIT WE’RE LATE!” yelled Gally.

 

“SHIT!” yelled Newt.

 

Thomas stayed silent – he still had no idea what was happening, but concern was blossoming in his stomach.

 

_Well, whatever the Grievers are gonna do has got to be bad to get all of them so scared, right?_

“COME ON GALLY,” yelled Minho, dragging him to the door.

 

Newt did the same with Thomas.

 

The pale circle Newt’s fingers made on Thomas’ wrist made a jolt go through him.

 

But the door slammed on the two of them before they could get to it.

 

“WHAT THE HELL MINHO!” yelled Newt, running to the now shut door.

 

Despite everything, Thomas was acutely aware that Newt had let go of his wrist. He was also acutely aware at how disappointed he was.

 

“HAVE FUN ON YOUR TOUR!” came Minho’s muffled reply, the sound of his voice decreasing as he ran away from the cabin.

 

_God how could I forget?_

_The tour._

_Of course._

_With Newt._

_Of course._

“Oh, thank God,” sighed Newt, after the realisation of the tour came to him too.

 

He sank to the floor, his back against the door, and put his head in his hands.

 

“Are you okay?” asked Thomas hesitantly. He still remembered what had happened with Newt and Gally – whatever had caused that was obviously a fragile subject, and Thomas didn’t want to go anywhere near it in case it upset Newt.

 

“Yeah Tommy, fine,” replied Newt, lifting his head and offering a smile, “sorry. Tired. I mean, no-one wants to wake up and find they’re late already, do they? And especially not in this camp, with the Grievers. And all that chaos with that shuck Minho…”

 

Thomas nodded.

 

“Sorry again. About this morning. And all the swear words. I didn’t want you to be late either, you see, especially on your first day.” Newt was looking straight at Thomas as he said this.

 

“It’s alright.”

 

He offered his hand to Newt.

 

Newt took it, grinning.

 

“Come on! Get dressed – it’s about time you got your tour.”

 

 

 

•     •     •     MINHO     •     •     •

 

 

“You go ahead,” Minho said when they had reached the clearing where registration took place. Thankfully, it hadn’t started yet and the Grievers were absent. He pushed Gally to the general direction where the rest of their dorm was standing in a cluster. “I’ll come in a few minutes.”

 

“Why?” asked Gally, suspicion creeping into his tone.

 

“None of your business, shuck-face,” replied Minho, annoyed Gally didn’t seem to trust him.

 

Gally stared stonily at Minho, and it became apparent he wasn’t going to move unless he got an answer.

 

Minho sighed, then gestured for Gally to come closer. He did.

 

“Runner business, okay,” Minho hissed into his ear, “Now go before the Grievers get here.”

 

Immediately, Gally seemed to understand. Nodding, he turned around and jogged to join the rest of the Homestead dorm boys.

 

Minho, on the other hand, turned and ran in the opposite direction.

 

He was looking for Theo, who had become his second in command after Ben had…left. As he ran, he shoved his hand into his trouser pocket, finding the small bundle of paper he had put there earlier.

 

Minho wished he could wear his chest plate – it was so convenient and he absolutely hated putting things in his pocket. Also, Ben had given it to him. It had been a present, along with a pair of leather gloves, and the only other person who had had one was Ben himself. Minho still had Ben’s running stuff in his Box next to his bed. 

 

Wearing the gloves were one thing (it was easy to hide them), but wearing the chest plate would be like putting up a red flag for the Grievers, saying ‘ _hey, did you know about the shit we’re doing behind your back?_ ’.

 

The Runners were lucky enough that they had gotten this far without being found out.

 

Minho knew what dorm Theo was in (the Phase dorm), but couldn’t remember where they stood in registration – registration took place too early for Minho to pay attention to things like that.

 

Despite this though, it was relatively easy to find him, seeing as there were only ten dorms.

Soon, Minho caught a glimpse of Theo’s sandy hair.

 

He jogged up to him and shook his shoulder lightly.

 

“Minho!” exclaimed Theo, surprised. Minho had expected this. The Runners rarely approached each other during the day in fear of the Grievers’ suspicions rising, as they were almost all in different dorms. 

 

“Quiet,” shushed Minho, looking around for any approaching Grievers.

 

“Sorry,” Theo whispered, instantly realising the risk their conversation held.

 

“Look, I don’t have much time,” Minho continued in a hushed tone, “But I need you to give this to everyone.”

 

He pressed the folded stack of papers into Theo’s palm, hoping that he understood that ‘everyone’ meant all the Runners.

 

“It’s written in Bliss, so put in in your pocket or something.”

 

Bliss was an ink an abnormally smart Glader called Alan had made by sneaking into the woods and experimenting with different plants. Words written in it burned black on the paper when held up to sunlight.

 

Alby had pointed out the amount of money Alan could have made, but the boy insisted on keeping it secret to the Gladers. He had spent the summer making batches, and by the time everyone came back in late August, Alan had a small pot for each Glader, and at least one backup. Everyone loved the kid, and he was only thirteen.

 

Minho turned to go, nervous at the possibility of Grievers turning up at any second. But as he did, Theo caught his wrist.

 

“Wait,” he said, “Tell me what they say.”

 

“No,” Minho replied easily, “Read it yourself.”

 

“But I don’t have anything that isn’t monitored apart from now and an hour before sunset.”

 

“Read it then.”

 

“No, tell me now.”

 

Minho subjected him to one of his infamous death stares, but Theo didn’t budge. It was times like this when Minho was reminded why Theo was the one who became his second in command at such short notice.

 

Then, without warning, Minho sped words off his tongue, whispering furiously fast.

 

“Two weeks ago, the run. Me and you saw the paper outside that gas station. The kid. The one that the paper said went crazy and tried to kill his parents. He’s in my dorm. He’s here. But I need to give him a chance first. Now I’ve met him, I know that something about the media version of the story isn’t right. He’s a good guy. So I need all the Runners that know to shut their faces when they see the greenie. Got it?”

 

Not waiting for a reply, Minho turned and jogged away, just in time as Julius’ screeches filled the air.

 

“LET’S SEE WHICH UNLUCKY BASTARDS ARE HERE TODAY, SHALL WE?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, WILL POULTER IS HOT OKAY - I based Gally on the book Gally don’t worry. But of course, I had to include the eyebrows so yeah..
> 
> And now we know why (or at least partly why) Thomas got sent to Camp Glade!
> 
> Also I decided to include a bit of past Benho Bromance/Relationship, and seriously don’t ask me why cause it just turned out that way and I decided I liked it. 
> 
> I’m planning for the next chapter to be the tour, and there’ll be a crazy amount of explanations there – but my plans could change I’m not too sure yet.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a week or so, but I'm also working on a FEEEEELS one/two/three shot that I want to get finished for my friend's birthday on the 08/01, so unfortunately that takes priority :(  
> Follow my Instagram @x_newtmasrunners_x cause I put on there when I post a new chapter.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and Kudos.
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL!!!
> 
> lets_newtmas_shucks
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Okay quick update  
> The reason I haven't posted in such a long time is because I have a bloody mountain of school work I'm trying (and failing) to trawl my way through.  
> ALSO because I'm an idiot and somehow I felt the need to give myself more work, I'm also working on a piece called I'm Sorry, which should be up soon!  
> I'll try to get the next chapter up within a week :)

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's a bit confusing BUT JUST BEAR WITH ME OKAY 
> 
> love you all


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